


Sticky Situation

by kangaroar



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Secret Identity, Spideypool - Freeform, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23574439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangaroar/pseuds/kangaroar
Summary: In a freak webshooting mishap, Spider-Man accidentally ties himself and Deadpool together. Somehow, Deadpool doesn't seem too bothered.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 517





	Sticky Situation

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) i've missed these two idiots

“Whatcha up to, sweet cheeks?”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes as the familiar voice approached him from behind, accompanied with the unmistakable rattle of guns and the smell of Mexican food.

“The same thing we’re always doing this time on Tuesday,” he retorted playfully, swinging his legs off the side of the skyscraper as Deadpool plopped down next to him. “What did you get?”

“Tacos, obviously, and a side of chalupas and some fajitas.” Deadpool rummaged through the paper bags he’d brought with him, showing each item proudly as he recited them.

“Oh my God, you know we can’t eat that much.”

“Never say can’t, baby boy. We’ve broken our record every time. Plus,” Deadpool said as he pulled out a taco, “it’s my treat, anyway.”

“You always treat, no matter what I say.”

“What can I say, Webs? Your ass every Tuesday is enough of a treat for me.” Deadpool winked as he passed the taco to Spider-Man. “Although, you know what would be even more of a treat?”

“Don’t say it.”

“If you let me unwrap you just like you’re unwrapping that taco–“

“Dude!” Spider-Man slapped Deadpool on the shoulder, likely hard enough to bruise anyone who _didn’t_ have a superhuman healing factor, but he and Deadpool both knew it was in good humor.

It was no secret that Spider-Man and Deadpool were civil, possibly even friends to the public eye, but it had taken a while for them to stop being at each other’s throats constantly. Well, it was mostly Spider-Man who was at Deadpool’s throat, and Deadpool was a little closer to Spider-Man’s ass. Either way, the Spider-Man from a year ago could barely stand the presence of the mercenary, much less his endless and crude flirtations, while Deadpool couldn’t seem to resist agitating the other. Nevertheless, somehow they had begun running into each other more and more (sometimes even chasing the same criminal), and soon, Spider-Man found that he didn’t really mind the flirting anymore.

In fact, he might’ve even liked it a little.

Or even a lot.

But he would never say that to Deadpool’s face.

“Sooo...” Deadpool drawled, scooting closer to Spider-Man until their thighs were pressed together. “What’s your fine ass been up to lately? Other than seducing me over and over with your good looks, obviously.”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes again as he lifted his mask above his nose to take a bite. He was surprised that his eyeballs hadn’t popped out of their sockets at this rate. “The usual. Although, I haven’t seen you around in a while. What’ve _you_ been up to?”

Deadpool held a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Spider-Man? _The_ Amazing Spider-Man? Asking about little old me? Unheard of.”

Spider-Man stifled a laugh around his taco, earning him a mischievous grin from Deadpool as he also lifted his mask. Spider-Man noticed that his skin looked extra angry around his jaw today, but it didn’t bother him, only concerned him.

“Business has been better than usual, to put it lightly for your little angel virgin ears. But the targets are absolutely _ruthless._ Fuck, I’m practically a god among men and I’m barely keeping up. Maybe I’m getting old.”

“Aren’t you like, barely thirty?”

“I’m thirty-three, but thanks for the compliment, baby boy,” Deadpool snickered. “By the look of what I can see of those rosy cheeks, I’m guessing the genre’s barely legal?”

“Shut the hell up. I’m twenty-one.”

“You just proved my point, sweetie.”

“I am _literally_ as legal as you can get in this country.”

Deadpool shrugged. “I dunno, you could be a regular law-abiding citizen that doesn’t constantly have police tailing him. That would get you up the legal ranks.”

Spider-Man scoffed. “It’s not my fault they’re practically incompetent. Plus, I _am_ a regular law-abiding citizen, when I’m not suited up. Unlike you.”

“Hey, it’s more off my back. I can’t even imagine hiding my identity all the time.”

“That’s because you talk too much.”

“Only to you,” Deadpool leered, pressing their shoulders together and whispering into Spider-Man’s ear. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him shiver a little.

“If I can save even one person from that mouth of yours, I’m a real hero,” Spider-Man replied dryly.

“Aw, Spides, you don’t mean that.”

“I actually do. I think a couple of times you’ve made my brain leak out of my ears from how much you talk.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

Spider-Man hesitated. Deadpool smirked.

“I–“

“Whoa, look.” Deadpool nodded toward the street below them. “That looks like trouble.”

Spider-Man peered through the smog of the city. Faintly, he saw a hooded figure cornering another figure with his hands up. From the way they were standing, it looked like the aggressor might’ve had a gun.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his legs up and crouching. “We gotta do something.”

But, in true Spider-Man and Deadpool fashion, at the exact moment Spider-Man shot a web toward the hooded figure’s hand, Deadpool grabbed Spider-Man’s and leapt off the building.

“No time for that, Spides!”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Spider-Man instinctively pivoted and shot another web toward the edge of the building they’d just leapt off of, forgetting momentarily about the web in his other hand and the fact that Deadpool was still holding it, and then–

The figures looked up at the commotion, then at each other, shrugged, and dapped each other up before walking away together.

“Aw, fuck, Webs, we’ve got ourselves in kind of a sticky situation, huh?”

Spider-Man felt like he was going to die.

His webshooting mishap had caused him to wrap the web tightly around both Deadpool and himself, lashing them to the top of the building by a mere thread so that they looked like some fucked up, oversized cocoon. They dangled freely, upside-down, and Spider-Man had never been more simultaneously grateful and horrified of the strength of his webs.

“This is not okay,” he whispered, eyes shut.

“You don’t happen to have a knife, do you?” Deadpool offered.

“Why on earth would I, of all people, have a knife?”

Spider-Man refused to open his eyes. He refused to even breathe. Because his spidey senses were _overloaded._ Overloaded with the warmth of Deadpool’s body pressed against his, feeling every single dip in those chiseled muscles, hyperaware of Deadpool’s breath making his eyelashes flutter and the knowledge that if he breathed in they would be sharing the same air, and so painfully, devastatingly, shatteringly, paralyzingly aware that he and Deadpool hadn’t had time to pull their masks down so that if Spider-Man’s head was any closer they would be kissing.

Deadpool shifted. Spider-Man’s brain stopped working.

“Stop.” _Holy shit._

“Stop what?”

“Stop moving.” _If you move any more, I’ll–_

“Well, shit, baby boy,” Deadpool whispered, his voice suddenly deeper and huskier and sending chills down Spider-Man’s spine. “If we’re going to get out of this, I think we’re going to have to move a little.”

“O-okay,” Spider-Man practically whimpered. “Just give me a minute.” He prayed with all his heart that Deadpool couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. Shit, he knew he kind of had a thing for the mercenary, but this was all moving at the speed of a bullet train.

“You sure you wanna get out of this?” Deadpool purred. Spider-Man’s brain whirred to a stop. “Because I’m telling you, if I get us out of this, it’s only a courtesy to you, sweet cheeks. I’m _perfectly fine_ the way we are.”

“Who says you’re the one getting us out?” Spider-man breathed, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Well, if you’d open your eyes, you’d see that my hands are free.”

Spider-Man forced himself to open his eyes, looking everywhere but straight ahead. “Huh. How’d you manage that?”

Deadpool shrugged. “It was the weakest around my forearms. Plus, you’re not the only one with super strength.”

“Well, do you think you can get us out?” Spider-Man’s arms were still bound tightly against his sides.

“Not unless you want me to break them. I don’t have full mobility, since I can’t get rid of the webs around my shoulder.”

Spider-Man winced at the thought. “Okay, we’ll leave that for the last resort.”

Deadpool made a noise, low in his throat, that almost sounded like a growl. “Well, we’d better figure it out soon, because I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”

Even more blood rushed into Spider-Man’s cheeks at the noise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m literally tied to the person I’ve been crushing on for over a year, and your spandex isn’t really hiding much so I can feel fucking _everything_ from all of my wet dreams, and your lips are also right in front of my face. So, if we don’t get out soon, something bad is going to happen. And I won’t be able to control it.”

Spider-Man was seriously about to die.

If not from the embarrassment, then from how the rest of his lifeless body was about to become bloodless from how much of it was turning his neck and face completely red. He turned his head to face Deadpool head on. Up close, he could see how the sores on his face shifted constantly, and anywhere there wasn’t bright red there were bumpy, hard knots. It hurt his heart to see how painful they looked.

“Do they hurt?” he asked without thinking.

“My scars?”

“Yeah.”

“All the time, sweetheart.”

Spider-Man’s eyes fluttered downward. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be saying that you’re welcome.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the only thing that makes it hurt less.”

Spider-Man glanced at Deadpool’s lips. No smirk, no sign of dishonesty, nothing. He suddenly had the urge to lean forward and press his lips into Deadpool’s.

“I’m sorry that the webs are so tight. It must hurt.”

“Not your problem, baby boy,” Deadpool said lightly, “although I gotta tell you, I’m physically holding my arms out (out of respect, of course), but this webbing is cutting off my circulation and if I stop holding them out your asscheeks are going to be right in the palms of my hands. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, I’m pinching myself right now in case this is a dream. But I’m just saying.”

Spider-Man bit his lip, trying to suppress his rising blush. Deadpool licked his lips. Oh, god, he did not need to see that right now. “Just… it’s fine.”

“What was that?”

Spider-Man looked away, cheeks burning. “I don’t want you to cut off your circulation for me.”

He closed his eyes tightly as Deadpool slowly lowered his arms. His hands rested more on Spider-Man’s hips than his ass, but Spider-Man still yelped when Deadpool gave him a playful squeeze.

“ _Hey!”_

“Sorry, honey, couldn’t help myself. I’m going to have jack off material for _weeks._ And it’s all thanks to how stupidly strong your webs are. Don’t you think it’s a little dumb that you can’t even break your own webs?”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “It’s a new formula. Plus, they’re strong more because of the way they shoot and not because of the way they're made, and also _can you blame me_ _have you seen these new villains-“_

“I’m not blaming you for anything,” Deadpool whispered. “This is exactly where I want to be.”

“Perv.” Spider-Man scrunched his nose.

“Who said it’s because you’re a walking porno? Okay, it’s a little because you’re a walking porno. But honestly, what else would I be doing right now other than this little… bonding exercise?”

Deadpool raised his eyebrows, smiling expectantly. Spider-Man sighed at the bad joke.

“I don’t know, you could be counting money somewhere or polishing your guns or doing other things you like.”

“Why would I be doing that right now?”

“What do you mean?”

Deadpool cocked his head. “It’s Taco Tuesday, isn’t it?”

Spider-Man’s stomach exploded in butterflies.

The fact that Deadpool didn’t just think of their weekly excursions as a break from their respective work, but that he ritualized it, _prioritized_ it because he got to spend time with Spider-Man, was heartwarming at the very least.

“You’re in love with me.” It wasn’t a question, or an accusation. It was a statement of fact.

“That’s an understatement.”

“What am I to you?” A crush? A partner? A friend with benefits?

“Everything.”

Spider-Man’s heart dropped and soared at the same time. Soared, because he didn’t know how much Deadpool’s words meant even to himself. Dropped, because the wind had suddenly picked up, and slowly but surely, his mask was falling off his face.

“I know you probably want a response to that, preferably one of affirmation of course, but I can’t give that to you right now because my mask is falling off and I’m kinda freaking out about it.” Spider-Man squeezed the words out all in one breath, trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating because it would only make the mask fall faster.

“Mine is too,” Deadpool whispered. “Want me to pull yours down with my teeth?”

“What about yours?”

Deadpool shrugged– at least, as much as he could, given their current situation. “Your identity is more important than mine. I mostly just wear it so people don’t have to see what’s under it.”

Spider-Man’s thoughts spun. Could he trust Deadpool with his identity, and therefore his very life?

Of course he could.

It wasn’t even a question.

“M-my name,” he stuttered, just as the mask lifted from his brow and floated into the abyss. “It’s Peter.”

“Hello, Peter.” Peter was struck by the blue of Deadpool’s eyes. He’d never realized they were blue before. “I’m Wade.”

Peter drank in the sight. The scars, the jaw, the cheekbones, what little he could see of the collarbones, the gentleness behind the eyes. He _loved it_.

Wade, on the other hand, averted his eyes.

“Shy?” Peter joked. “What a reversal.”

“Can ya blame me?” Wade mumbled. Peter felt his heart twist.

“I love the way you look.”

The sincerity in his voice seemed to perk Wade up. “Shit, Petey-pie, you sure know how to make a man feel like a princess.”

Peter smiled at him.

“Also, can we talk about how glad I am that we’re still hanging upside down? Because let me tell you, if all the blood in my body wasn’t in my head right now, this webbing would be _significantly_ tighter.”

Several things happened to Peter in one instant. He blushed, fought the urge to yell at Wade, fought the urge to look away, fought the urge to deflect and suppress how he really felt like he always, _always_ did. This time was going to be different.

So he crushed his lips to Wade’s.

It was messy, fervent, hot, painful, _everything._ They kissed in a way that mirrored their relationship. At times violent, mostly teasing, all passion. Wade bit at Peter’s lips and sucked the pain away, gripping tightly at his hips and his ass, and Peter felt like he could’ve melted out of the webs right then and there.

He didn’t know how long they kissed, only that time stood still and simultaneously was not enough. It could’ve been an eternity or a few seconds.

Peter didn’t care.

This was enough.

They pulled away slowly, both panting for air, Wade licking the remnants of their passion off his lips while Peter ran his tongue over what were sure to be bite marks.

“You have _no idea_ how long I’ve waited to do that,” Wade breathed.

“Actually, I think I do.”

“Well… what do you say we get out of here now?” Wade grinned mischievously.

“Wait, what?”

Wade’s hand left Peter’s hip to fumble at his thigh holster, pulling out a knife. Peter looked down, then back at Wade, then down again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey, you never asked me if I had a knife.” Wade winked and began sawing at the webs.

“I actually fucking hate you right now.”

“Well, you’d better take a good look in the mirror, because you don’t look like you hate me at all. Preferably mine. After we’re done in the bed.”

“Not a chance after today.”

“Well, hey, we got a happy ending, didn’t we?”

Peter felt his anger– which wasn’t even true anger, anyway– dissipate at Wade’s genuine smile.

“Yeah, he said decidedly. “We did.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
